


Three Immortals and a Puppy Walk Into a Bar

by Survivah



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Fluff, Joe and Nicky are cool uncles, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:54:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25854685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Survivah/pseuds/Survivah
Summary: "Honestly, she’s only 90% sure that Nicky is the white guy and Joe is the Middle Eastern guy. She’s been waiting for somebody to drop a name to 100% confirm it, but Andy just calls them 'Joeandnicky', and they call each other a lot of stuff in a bunch of different languages that are probably pet names."---Joe, Nicky, and Nile are on dogsitting duty.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Nile Freeman & Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani & Nicky | Nicolo di Genova
Comments: 166
Kudos: 1992





	Three Immortals and a Puppy Walk Into a Bar

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I wrote my [fifteen thousand words of mutual pining](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25790566) already, which means it's time for goofy shenanigans.
> 
> —
> 
> Edit: Also I’ve just realized that when I googled “where is Nile Freeman from”, and read “the south” I should have expanded it so that I could see that it said “the south side OF CHICAGO.” But oh well, I’ve made my joke about the Coca Cola factory and I’m sticking to it.

Copley nods. “It would be my honor.”

And that’s that. Nile can’t say she’s overflowing with enthusiasm about the guy, but if the last few days have proven anything, it’s the importance of being able to cover up their trail. Nile may have dodged the metaphorical bullet this time (and _not_ dodged a few very literal bullets, what the fuck,) but she’s still not interested in getting strapped to a lab table any time soon.

Copley rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Priority number one will meeting up with my contacts in the CIA to get some sensitive information erased. I’ll need to book a flight.”

Joe frowns. “What, you can’t just call them?”

“I don’t make a practice of asking my ex-coworkers to illegally destroy classified files over the phone, no. You may be surprised to know that the CIA has been known to spy upon its employees.” He sounds completely calm and sophisticated with his smooth accent, but Nile is pretty sure that if you speak British, you can hear a “dumbass” attached to the end of that sentence.

“We’ll fly to the US tonight,” Andy decides.

Copley looks surprised for a second, then clearly remembers that he betrayed them like a day ago, and maybe they wouldn’t be too interested in letting him hop onto a plane and disappear right this second. He doesn’t say that, though. Classy dude.

“I’ll have to arrange for a dogsitter,” he says reluctantly.

Nile instinctively perks up, then remembers that they’re still trying to intimidate this guy.

“We will care for the dog,” Nicky cuts in smoothly.

Nile and Andy both glance at him in surprise. Nile is a sucker for dogs, but she didn’t think this was the kind of thing they did.

Nicky shrugs, and smiles this unreadable little Mona Lisa smile. “Andy is mortal now. I know better than to convince her not to accompany you,” he nods his head at her graciously, “but, ah, this would be a reminder that we wish for you to treat her as kindly as you would wish for us to treat your dog.”

“It’s an insurance policy,” says Joe, more bluntly.

Ah, kidnapping a dog to stop a secret agent from triple crossing them seems more like something they would do. Honestly, Nile is pretty sure they don’t need to worry about Copley, but the rest of them hadn’t been there when he choked up over his wife and snuck Nile into Merrick’s building. To them, he was a guy who they’d heard secondhand might not be as bad as they thought.

Copley smiles in a deliberately bland way. “I’m sure you’ll find the experience just as enjoyable as I shall find my trip with Andy.”

::

Copley’s dog is a nightmare.

Apparently, his glass cube of a house has good soundproofing, because once they reach the second floor—the dog’s floor, Copley called it, and Nile had wondered why he would phrase it like that, like the dog owns an entire floor by himself—it becomes clear that this dog is a _talker._

He’s a husky, so Nile isn’t shocked that he’s loud, but when they come up the stairs, he slides across the trendy polished cement floor with a howl so bellowing and sharp, she sees Joe tense reflexively and reach for a gun he isn’t carrying.

Copley points out where the food and leash and everything is, then packs a bag and is out of there with Andy so fast that Nile wonders if all of the chaos of the last few days had actually been a long-winded, Machiavellian plot to get someone to volunteer to dogsit his tornado of a puppy.

And this guy is a puppy. Judging by his elephant paws and beanpole legs, Nile puts him at a little under a year. Worse than a puppy, a teenager.

The husky—Ghost—leaps against the industrial grade doggy gate at the stairs and whines at Copley’s departure, making the reinforced metal shudder ominously.

“So, uh,” Joe scratches his head and looks at Nile. “Have you ever taken care of a dog before?”

Nile looks at him in surprise. “Yeah, we had dogs growing up. But, what, you’re like a thousand years old and you’ve never had a dog?”

Joe shrugs, looks at Nicky. “When we were young, dogs weren’t really pets.”

Nicky tilts his head. “We have worked alongside a number of military dogs. But that was more...” he waves vaguely and looks at Joe.

“More like coworkers,” Joe finishes. “More...professional coworkers.” He eyes Ghost, now trying to dig a hole through the cement floor to get past the gate.

Nile is surprised, but when she thinks about it, all she knows about Joe and Nicky is:

1\. They’re together  
2\. They were in (one of?) the Crusades  
3\. They’re good backup in a fight.

Honestly, she’s only 90% sure that Nicky is the white guy and Joe is the Middle Eastern guy. She’s been waiting for somebody to drop a name to 100% confirm it, but Andy just calls them “Joeandnicky”, and they call each other a lot of stuff in a bunch of different languages that are probably pet names.

So she’s not great with names, sue her. They’ve got at least two days of bonding time hanging out in this house; she’ll get it figured out by the end.

Nicky winces when Ghost howls through the gate again. “Should we do something? He is distraught.”

“Eh...” Nile looks around the tastefully decorated lounge for a toy. “He’s got a ton of energy, we can probably wear him out. Do you guys see a ball or something?”

The guys dutifully start poking around. Nile finds a lot of stylish mid-century modern furniture and erudite coffee table books, but nothing that looks like it’s supposed to be chewed on.

Although, she notes, it looks as though Ghost has resourcefully converted some of the couch legs into chew toys instead. Excellent use of your surroundings, soldier.

“Aha,” Nicky hums, “I have found them.”

He’s pulled a decorative basket from the display bookshelf. Nicky tilts it to show them the secret horde of toys.

Nile rolls her eyes. “Wow, Copley is really not a natural dog guy.”

“How so?” Nicky offers the basket to her, and she selects a rope toy.

“I mean, if you don’t want a crazy energetic dog, you might want to leave his toys somewhere he can actually get them.”

“I think Ghost found toys all by himself,” Joe chuckles, finding the victimized couch legs.

“Hey buddy!” Nile calls. “You wanna play? Play!”

Ghost scrambles in a circle, then bounces into a play bow, which, okay, is adorable. Nile slaps the rope against the ground, and he bounds into her, rearing onto his hind legs to lick her face and jam one of his paws straight into her boob.

Nile stumbles—just a little. Her childhood dogs were more of the “three year old chihuahua mix from the shelter” variety. Less puppy energy, and not so liable to knock you over.

“Woah woah woah,” Joe swoops in, looping an arm under Ghost’s scrabbling front paws. “You can be a little more polite to a lady, can’t you?”

With Joe’s forearm as a stable platform to brace himself on, Ghost wiggles happily and shoves his nose into Joe’s beard.

Joe looks nonplussed, and from across the room, Nicky makes a little sound that might be a laugh.

Joe says something to Nicky in probably-Italian. Nile can’t decipher it, but from his tone, she’s thinking it’s something like “yeah yeah, laugh it up, wise guy.”

“Hey! Hey!” She waves the rope again, and this time, Ghost gets with the program and chomps on, growling joyfully.

Ghost is strong, built for pulling sleds, so he puts up a good fight, but Nile is taller and has a better grip on the smooth floor with her sneakers, so she can kind of drag him from one end of the open floor plan to another.

While she and Ghost do laps across the floor, she hears Joe and Nicky murmuring to each other by the bookshelf. This time it’s probably-Arabic, but even though she knows a few words herself, she can’t pick any of it out. 

It’s sort of weird being alone with the two of them. It feels like when you’re invited to a party hosted by someone you don’t know very well, and you come too early, so the only people there are the host and their best friend who helped set up. Like they’re friendly, and they invited you, but you still kind of feel like you’re intruding. Oh, and also they’re a thousand years older than you.

She yanks the rope from side to side to give Ghost a little variety. His tail wags furiously.

“Yeah, you’re a good boy,” she tells him, begrudgingly. At least with Ghost here, she has the fallback of every awkward guest at a party: hanging out with the dog.

Eventually, Ghost tires out some and trots over to the sitting area, where Nicky and Joe have migrated. He hops straight onto the beleaguered couch and flops onto the plum velvet fabric, covering it liberally in short bristly hairs.

Niles trails after him and settles into the plush leather armchair in the corner of the room. She wouldn’t mind giving Ghost some belly rubs now that he’s calmer, but she feels weird about wedging herself onto the couch, which is cramped enough with both Ghost and Joeandnicky.

So instead, Ghost flops his head into Nicky’s lap. Nicky cautiously pats between his ears, straight up and down, not even a good scritch. Ghost’s tail thumps against the cushion, nonetheless.

They all watch the dog for a couple of minutes, and then the silence starts to weigh uncomfortably.

“So, uh,” Joe begins, “where in America are you from, Nile?”

This is so goddamn weird. Usually she does the small talk dance with people before she gets splattered by their arterial spray. He’s earnest, though, like a school friend’s parent asking about your favorite subject.

“From around Atlanta. Uh, that’s in Georgia,” She adds. She knows it’s a very American thing to assume people from other countries know where their cities are, and she feels a strong urge to not be an uncultured American.

Joe nods in recognition. “Sure, we know Atlanta.”

Nile leans forward. She’d get a kick out of swapping Atlanta stories; she hasn’t had the opportunity to talk about home in a long time.

Nicky hums in agreement. “That railroad town we passed through before the Civil War. It was a big city, then.” He raises his eyebrows thoughtfully. “Six thousand people.”

Joe elbows Nicky playfully. “You never make us sound cool.” He turns to Nile pointedly. “We were also at the Coca-Cola museum on opening day, back in the nineties. Long story.”

Nicky’s eyebrows furrow. “I do not think this makes us sound more cool.”

Nile leans in, interest piqued. “No wait, tell me the long story.”

The late afternoon sun is slanting in through the windows by the time Joe and Nicky finish the tale, which involves more car chases than she would have guessed. Ghost is blessedly asleep, his snout propped on Nicky’s thigh.

“Damn,” Nile says when they finish. “That sounds badass.”

They look at each other meaningfully.

“It did not feel bad ass at the time,” Nicky points out. In his accent, he says “badass” like it’s two words.

Joe tilts his head. “It felt a little bit badass. It always feels a little bit badass. But by the end you’re just sore and you always smell bad.” He looks at her with a mock-serious expression. “Always.”

“You can never fully overcome the fear,” Nicky adds, more sincerely. “But I think this is good. Without it, we would not be so human.”

Nile notes his choice of words. “So human” is not the same thing as “human.” Nobody ever meets a human and marvels, “wow, so human!” 

An uncomfortable rush of vertigo comes over her for a moment. This has happened a few times in the past few days, when she lets herself think too hard about what’s happened to her. The best remedy is to have an explosion distract you, but the second-best is to start doing something really mundane and trivial.

“Well!” She stands up. “I’m gonna see what the deal is with dinner.”

At the word “dinner,” Ghost wakes up, and thrashes so hard in excitement that he falls off the couch.

“Alright, I see how it is.” Nile can’t help but smile at Ghost’s antics. “Let’s get you fed.”

There’s no way she’ll get any cooking done with Ghost dancing around her heels, so she sorts out his food first, setting him up with two bowls by his swanky-looking memory foam dog bed before heading downstairs. Guiltily, she closes the dog gate behind her.

Joe and Nicky have beaten her to the kitchen, where they’re rooting through Copley’s fridge and cabinets.

“He has carrots, we could do the-“

“Mm, we could have to roast them; these are...” Nicky bends the carrot dubiously. “Not fresh.”

Joe rolls his eyes. “Bachelors.”

Nile drifts into the kitchen and peeks over Nicky’s shoulder into the fridge. It’s pretty full, but as he pulls items out, it becomes clear that this is the kitchen of a guy with big cooking dreams who usually folds and gets takeout. A lot of vegetables past their prime, and a fridge door with duplicate condiments and dressings—he doesn’t remember what he owns. Nile bets that they’re gonna find a lot of pasta in the cabinets.

“Well, there’s pasta,” observes Joe, looking through the cabinets. “So we can cook the vegetables until you don’t notice-“

“Mm,” Nicky agrees. “Do we have-“

Joe pulls an untouched jar of dressing from the cabinet. Nicky’s nose wrinkles in distaste, but he shrugs in acceptance.

“Meat?” Asks Joe.

Nicky pulls a shrink-wrapped package from the fridge, winces, and drops it into the trash. “No.”

Joe tosses her a cheeky smile. “I don’t know, we have a red-blooded American with us now. Don’t you need your meat at every meal?”

Alright, they’re on teasing terms. Nile can respect that. “The way Andy talks, I was thinking y’all ate gravel for every meal while you hide out under bridges.”

“Only on special occasions.” Joe winks, then gets distracted. “Oh! I cut up some fruit for you. An appetizer.”

He slides a plate down the counter. On it, there’s an assortment of banana slices, grapes, and- “is this a swan?” she asks, marveling over the intricately sliced apple at the center of the plate.

“Oh, yeah, I had a little fun,” Joe says as he bundles up the vegetables to rinse them.

“Just now? When I was feeding Ghost?” The wings are perfectly symmetrical. He even placed two little seeds on the head for eyes.

He shrugs, raising his voice to be heard over the water. “You pick stuff up.”

Nile chews on a banana slice and ponders this. How many skills do you learn over the course of a thousand years? How bored do you have to get to master the art of delicately carving a swan out of an apple in under five minutes? Does this mean she’s eventually going to get restless enough to actually learn piano?

Joeandnicky are also working through an apple, but Joe hasn’t bothered to cut this one; instead they’re trading bites over the stove.

She knows it’s a couples thing to not worry too much about germs with each other, but can they even get sick? Is it like when her broken arm started to heal within the minute, or does this just mean she can’t die of the flu? Oh god, they actually lived through the Black Plague. Germ theory didn’t even exist when they were born. A thousand years from now, will she be initiating a new baby immortal, who will look at her and think, “wow, Nile was born before the alien invasion and telepathy”?

Luckily, Joe chooses that moment to add some ingredients to Nicky’s saucepan that Nicky disapproves of with such a European “ah ah ah ah” and look of affront that Nile can’t help but giggle.

“Since tonight is Italian food, I am the chef,” Nicky asserts. “You are sous-chef, my love. And sous-chef means no meddling.”

Nile’s mom didn’t raise a rude child. “What can I help with?”

“No, no, sit, sit.” Nicky waves the spatula at her. “Besides, there is no more room in the kitchen.”

Copley has an enormous, magazine-worthy kitchen, but there’s only one stove, so Nile allows it. Honestly, it’s been a long time since anybody cooked for her—Army mess food doesn’t count—it’s kind of soothing for her overfrayed nerves. With her fruit slices and her feet dangling off of the barstool, she actually feels kind of like an elementary schooler with an after-school snack. Relatively speaking, she _is_ an elementary schooler in relation to them, and that’s being generous.

Nicky curses quietly to himself and fiddles with the knob. “I went through my more passionate cooking phase when stoves were wood-powered,” he explains for Nile’s benefit. “These ones always surprise me.”

“Yeah, uh,” Nile can’t relate. “They’ll get ya.”

Nicky returns to serenely stirring the vegetables in the pan. Does he also feel awkward, or is he just a quiet guy?

Nile is rescued by the sound of Ghost whining from upstairs. He must be done eating. “Oh, I’ll go check on him.”

She climbs the stairs to find Ghost scrabbling at the base of the gate. 

“Hey bud, what’s up, I’ll just-“ She unlatched the gate and he bolts through, nails clattering on the stairs. Nile considers trying to haul him back to the second floor, but whatever, they’re free dogsitters, some rules are gonna get bent.

“After you,” she mutters to herself, following Ghost back to the main floor.

From around the corner, she hears Joe say “Oh _no_ ,” so she hurries up to see what kind of havoc he’s getting into.

“Oh no, have you not been paid enough attention?” Joe is kneeling down, arms locked around Ghost in a hold to stop him from leaping onto the counter. Joe seems pretty familiar with this move—it’s probably also really good for restraining attackers.

Ghost is enjoying it, leaning his head back to lick Joe’s face and responding, “Wooooowwwoooooooo wooooo woooooooo.”

“Oh dear, is that so?” Joe doesn’t seem to mind Ghost so much, now that he’s not actually jumping in his face. “You have suffered. No, Signore Cucciolo,” he groans as Ghost makes an aborted attempt to wiggle out of his arms. “Yes, I’d also like Nicky’s attention, but he’s head chef tonight.” He glances at Nile. “Can dogs eat tomato sauce?”

Nile shrugs. “I mean, he probably shouldn’t. He had the really fancy dog food anyways, the kind with like, a painting of a mastodon on the front.”

“Ah,” Nicky says wistfully, “I miss mastodons.”

For a split second, Nile believes him, and starts questioning everything she thought she remembered from history class, but then she catches the hint of a twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“Ooooohhhhhwrrrowww rrrowww rrrrooooowww,” says Ghost.

“I guess Ghost agrees with you,” she remarks, leaning against the kitchen island.

“He’s a talkative guy,” Joe observes, figuring out that scratching at the ruff of fur on Ghost’s chest is a good way to distract him. “And a tongue kisser.”

Nicky wryly murmurs something to Joe in Italian that Nile is pretty sure she doesn’t want translated, judging by Joe’s smirk.

They work out a compromise with Ghost, where they sit at the kitchen island and eat some pretty serviceable pasta, while he lays on the floor and whines plaintively for only 40% of the time. Just when Joe is betting Nicky that they’ll find a package of shame-Oreos hidden somewhere in the kitchen, they learn that the reason Ghost isn’t allowed downstairs is because he isn’t really potty-trained, and downstairs is where the fancy rugs are. So that’s the end of dinner.

After handling that fiasco, they herd Ghost back upstairs to the safe zone, and collapse onto the couch with three well-deserved beers. Nile doesn’t bother with the armchair; once you’ve googled “remove dog poop carpet” with someone, you’re not so self-conscious. It does still get crowded once Ghost jumps onto their collective lap.

“Well that was an epic fail,” Joe says around his beer. “I thought I was done cleaning up shit when they invented indoor plumbing.”

Nile hasn’t heard anyone say _epic fail_ since 2011, so she can’t help but laugh a little bit under her breath, remembering when she and her college friends would throw that phrase around for everything from a total wipeout on a bike to cold french fries.

Seems like she was a little too loud, because Nicky and Joe look at her expectantly.

“Oh I was just thinking it had been a while since I heard anybody say that,” Nile says mildly.

Joe swears in Korean(?) while Nicky smiles conspiratorially at Nile. “He tries to keep up with slang. I tell him it’s no use, it changes too quickly now.”

“You leave a country for ten years and they change everything on you.” Joe shakes his head mournfully.

“Your accent is pretty convincing,” Nile offers helpfully.

“Ha! That’s true,” Joe looks at Nicky pointedly. “Some of us put a lot of work into perfecting the accent.”

Nicky makes a skeptical noise. “She said, ‘pretty’ convincing, no?”

This time, Nile really<\em> doesn’t mean to make a face, but apparently she does, because Joe’s face falls. “Don’t tell me.”

She can tell he’s playing up his dismay, so she shrugs a little dramatically. “It’s fine, really. You can hardly tell.”

Nicky smiles into his drink while Joe gasps and puts his hand over his chest. “Don’t spare me Nile, what is it?”

“It’s not like you have an accent,” Nile allows. “It’s more like...you’re definitely faking the American one. You hit the ‘r’ sounds too hard.”

“Does Andy have an accent?” Joe presses.

“No, not at all.” Nile only realizes how odd that is as she says it. What would Andy’s first language have been anyway? What did cavemen speak?

“Typical,” Joe shakes his head in mock-resentment. “She always has to be the best.”

“It’s a-not worth the trouble,” Nicky announces, playing up his Italian accent. It’s hands-down the goofiest thing she’s ever seen him do, and it actually makes her cackle.

After that, they’re really _hanging out._ Nicky slumps into the arm of the couch, and Joe slumps into Nicky, and Ghost slumps into all of them, and they get a little bit tipsy, and Nile tells the story of her “epic fail” bicycle wipeout in college, then Joeandnicky swap injury stories that are kind of grotesque but kind of fascinating, then Ghost sneezes, which is so cute that Nicky actually puts both hands on his cheeks in delight like a cartoon character. Nile realizes she’s actually having an honest-to-God good time. Joe and Nicky are actually the best kind of people to meet at a party where you don’t know anybody: they invite you in and explain their jokes, ask questions about you and really seem interested in the answer.

She hasn’t felt this relaxed since before her neck was sliced open, which is probably why, when Joe delivers a ridiculous pun centered around the word “gun,” she giggles, then hiccups, and then lets out a single sob. 

Nile tries to play it off, but it’s too late. She can feel her eyes getting hot and wet, too, the traitors. 

“Ah, piccolina,” murmurs Nicky. His voice is so soft and gentle that she wants to scream.

She's not really a crier, but she didn’t even feel like this when she shipped out to Afghanistan for the first time. Like being homesick, or, beyond that, like being lifesick. Like moving houses and realizing you’ll never be able to sleep in your childhood bedroom again. 

She’s been surrounded by people almost this whole time, and yet she feels so _lonely_ , and she can’t even go see anyone who really knows her ever again. She’s so tired of observing, and assessing, and evaluating; she just wants the ground under her feet to feel steady again. She wants to get a really annoying paper cut, and curse, then get a bandaid. She doesn’t want to know what it feels like to get shot, or plummet out of a building.

“Aw, easy kid, hey,” Joe wraps an arm around her shoulder. 

Nile squeezes her eyes shut. She wants to tell them it’s fine, she’ll sort herself out, it’s not even a big deal, but she knows that as soon as she tries to say anything, her voice will break and that’ll really trigger the waterworks. The rest of them probably all cry singular stoic tears down one cheek or some bullshit. 

Then Nicky gets up and moves around to he can put his arm around her shoulder too, so she’s sandwiched between them. With Ghost sat heavily in her lap, it feels like what she imagines one of those weighted blankets is like.

“I think I had this moment after the third time I came back to life,” Nicky says casually. “I had to rush to the woods at the edge of camp so none of the other soldiers would see me.”

“Took me a year, but I was more dramatic,” Joe adds. “Andy must’ve freaked out too, not that she’ll ever tell us.”

And Booker never really stopped freaking out, as far as Nile understands. 

If she keeps her voice at a whisper, she can hold it pretty steady. “How do- how do you wrap your head around it? All of this?”

She can practically feel them making eye contact over the top of her head. 

“It’s like remembering the width of the universe,” Nicky explains slowly. “Sometimes, at night, you remember how huge it is, larger than you can understand, or imagine.”

“It’s always there,” Joe cuts in, “and sometimes that feels like a bigger deal than other times. But, you know, you put one foot after another.”

Nicky nods. “You look at the positives. Seeing civilizations change, miraculous inventions. The opportunity to make a difference.”

Joe pipes in, “Nicky only really adjusted once you could buy chocolate in any country in the world.”

He’s trying to cheer her up, and he’s kind of succeeding. She laughs wetly. “Hey, now I one hundred percent know that you’re Nicky and you’re Joe,” she says, pointing at them respectively. “I’m catching on.”

Joe lets out a sharp laugh, eyes crinkling above his beard, while Nicky shakes his head ruefully. “There you go, one foot in front of the other!” Joe jostles her playfully.

“Wrrrroooowwwww rrrooooo rrrrowwww rowwwww,” agrees Ghost. 

Nile sniffs, and wipes under her eyes, which aren’t as bad as she’d thought. 

Seeing her calming down, Nicky makes to remove his arm from her shoulder, but she catches him. 

“That’s uh, you can keep doing that for a bit.”

So he does. 

One foot in front of the other.

**Author's Note:**

> PSA from your friendly neighborhood shelter volunteer: Shelters have been seeing more huskies because people got excited about Game of Thrones, then realized that husky puppies are actually really energetic and loud and got rid of them. Do your research before adopting!
> 
> (In the longer version of this story, we learn that actually, Copley's just taken in this dog like two weeks ago because his _nephew_ was the GoT fan who got in over his head. Then there's like a cute training montage.)


End file.
